Take a Look at the Lawman!
by Fraser13
Summary: The Sweeney and Life on Mars meet to solve a triple homicide and armed robbery case, leading to another nostalgic meeting! Rated M for language used after chapter 1.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **

**I do not own any established television series or any of such series' characters shown in this story. It is purely fan fiction.**

_Manchester, 1980_

DI Sam Tyler had been working with Manchester and Salsford CID under DCI Gene Hunt for seven years now. He had gained the trust of each of his colleagues on varying levels.

Gene respected him as a friend who could be relied on, but also still thought him as a soft, sissy, girlie, nancy, French, bender, Man United supporting POOF!!

Ray distrusted Sam and never forgave him for the car bomb incident.

Chris still took valued advice from Sam and had every CID interview and interrogation since 1974 on tape.

Annie was now a close friend to Sam, but never too close.

_Bank of England_

"Three dead, 50k in cash gone, and as sophisticated as a nuclear missile system. Every copper's perfect scenario 'guv." Ray told Gene sarcastically.

"Nick all the usuals, Rick Davies, Danny Burns." Gene replied, obviously bored out of his skull.

"I've had a look at your usuals and from what Ray says none of them idiots have the brains for this." Sam interrupted. "Standard procedure dictates we call in specialists, with a little thing called **training **guv!"

"**I am trained**" Gene responded angrily.

"In being a twat, yeah." Sam stated.

"I'm better than some mummy-boy specialists. Couldn't find a Jew in Nazi Germany. Who you thinking of anyway?"

"Flying Squad. Deal with these every day, drive cars fast, you'd like 'em"

"Just to prove you stupid, I'm gonna let yeh bring in the Fly boys. I could use a laugh."

_2 Days later_

"Guv, the Flying Squad are here, two of 'em."

"Two! My my we are honored. Bring 'em in." Gene joked

A few minutes later, the Londoners followed Phyllis into CID. Sam turned to two people he could of mistaken for himself and Gene.

"Guv!" Sam shouted towards the office. The door opened and out their stood Gene surrounded in cigarette smoke, and brandy infested air. It took a record time for the shock to dawn on his face.

"Ray, phone home, tell 'em I've found my long lost brother. Last time that happened he was as high as Margaret Thatcher's knickers" Gene said sarcastically, regaining his composure

"DCI Hunt? How you got constables a mystery." the left officer asked calmly, ignoring the comment.

"Smart, I like that, you can have DI Tyler's job any day. Or at least your DI mate here can" Indicating to the right office. "You are DCI aren't you, Tyler don't tell me nothin'."

"'Fraid not. DI Jack Regan and DS George Carter, Flying Squad."

"Thank god yeh not all the same then. This is my team: DS Ray Carling: brain of a fish, DC Chris Skelton: resident twat, WDC Annie Cartwright: property of DI Tyler, don't follow my lead in front of him. And myself, the sheriff of these parts. Not much, but we're somethin."

"Nice. Now this robbery. From what my DCI said, not a nice place to be. Took a detour on the way their, looks like someone's followed standard procedure, not a good idea. Let's go."

"Ray, Chris take a uniform car, DI Regan and DS Carter can cosy up to Cartwright in the back." Gene barked

"No need. We got a car" Regan responded.

"Oh yeah?"

"Cortina"

This stopped Gene in his tracks!

"When this is over, we're going to the doctor's and havin' a blood test."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not claim ownership over any mentioned brand names in this story. They are the property of their rightful owners. However this is my story! ©2008**

It was a gory sight. Two victims lay in a puddle of blood, running from the direct hit to their arteries. But while they lay in puddles, the last victim lay in a flood. She had been shot five-times by what looked by a shotgun wound.

"Some nasty bugger did this." Ray pointed out.

"Well tank you Captain Obvious! Mary and her Little Lambs were my prime suspects." Gene shouted, silencing Ray.

"This ones just a demonstration. A dummy." Regan assessed.

"Well I think the guns pointed at their heads might have done that, actually!" Gene said, smugly. "Maybe Sweeney Todd's lost his touch."

"Not for the workers, us! Prove that these gits are willing to go this far!" Regan snarled.

"He always like this." Sam asked Sergeant Carter.

"Try every waking minute."

"I thought it was just my guv."

"Surprise anyone does anything round 'ere." Annie cut in.

"We aren't getting anywhere shouting it out are we, you want these crooks nicked, so do I, so shat it for a minute and listen." Regan roared.

Sam saw it happening before it did. He grabbed Gene and wrestled him away from Regan. Ray and Chris didn't keep their cool as much. Ray swung at Regan, but was slapped away and countered by DS Carter. Chris next took a lunge at Regan, but was kicked in the balls and flung into the wall.

Gene pushed Sam away and succeeded in whacking Regan but he recovered and flew at Regan, landing a punch square on his nose. Sam jumped in and spread his arms between the two, stopping them reaching each other.

"You two, calm down, Jesus Christ!"

Regan realised the end and settled down, but Gene had too be dragged away by the (newly-peaceful) Chris and Ray.

"Alright, let's all go for a nice drink, shall we?" Carter suggested.

"Yeah, yeah. I could do with a drink." Regan answered disorientated.

_Railway Arms_

"Hey guv. Here's somethin' for the missus! '_The De Bears Diamonds. Worth over £200 million is being transported to University of Manchester today in a high security van._'" Chris quoted from the newspaper.

"Huh." Gene replied sleep fully, ogling a Mars red Audi Quattro on the front of _What Car?._

"So what makes this case so special DI Tyler?" Regan asked.

"Just wanted to show guv' some **proper policing**." Sam replied emphasised.

"Word of your guv's reached London yeh' know. Fifth Floor and getting right up tight. Guess its their liking someone shows DCI Hunt the book. Don't think they fancied me though."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm about as _Dixon of Dock Green_ as the Sex Pistols."

"Well, some helps better than know help. You might bring Gene from the fascist, gun slinger, megalomaniac-driving, womanising wannabe, book burner mob boss he is to a Cliff Richard."

"I'm the Sweeney, not Jesus!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not claim ownership over any mentioned brand names in this story. They are the property of their rightful owners. However this is my story! ©2008**

_Manchester CID_

It was all hustle and bustle in CID HQ. Regan was nodding and making noises of confirmation down Gene's phone. The Gene Genie himself was out gathering info from his ludicrous web of snitches. Sam, along with George, Chris and Ray was surveying a map of the bank's surrounding area, and Annie had accompanied the forensics experts to the bank. Everyone else sifting through records, looking for similar raids in the past 5-10 years, with discarded records flowing across the floor.

"That construction site, across the road, maybe the blaggers dug a hole from there to the bank." George spotted.

"It's a great block of concrete under that road. Damn hard and noisy to drill through." Sam said, eliminating the idea.

Chris and Ray, both their mouths chewing at amazing speeds, were just looking down at the plan with day-dreaming eyes.

At that moment, Gene and Jack burst from their respective doors, each with an expression of smugness and joy.

"Well, Mr. Regal, what have you got?"

"Regan, and I know who one of the blaggers are! Jimmy Morrison, call-centre worker, and amateur safe-cracker."

"Lucas Smith. Former police marksman, turned shooter." Gene responded smugly.

" Well what are you standing their for. Let's go!"

_Salford_

The Cortina slid around the corner, 5 metres later slamming to a halt outside a badly-kept flat. Gene and Jack stepped out.

They strode to the door, but ducked as something exploded around the corner. A car sped off on the road beside the flats. The detectives flew around the corner to see a young-man sprawled on the ground, laying in newly-spurted blood.

"Oh shit!" Jack exclaimed.

"You know him?" Gene asked questioningly.

"Jimmy Morrison. Call-centre worker and amateur safe-cracker. He rubbed his skin accidentally against the safe wall which gave us the lead and that same rub got him rubbed."

Gene made a noise of exasperation.

"I haven't seen anything this sick since a blag in '78. The bastard blew up the car with his mates dead inside."

"These marks aren't from a shotgun. This is the real deal. Assault rifle. That blag at RBS, before the blaggers were boracic. But with the 50k, they're planning something big, way big."

"Yeah, but what they gonna' target... Hey, wasn't your DC talking about that diamond being taken to the University."

"Yeah, its for the students to have an eye. My soddin' taxes going into some eye candy for kids, bloody Thatcher." Gene grumbled.

"Perfect for the blaggers, burst in, thrashing guns about like Darth Vader with a laser-sword. Blow the diamond case open and nick it, fetching a hefty death count on the way in and out."

_CID_

Gene, Jack and Sam stood in DCS Johnson's office, dramatically changed from the reign of DCS Woolf's, the football pictures had been replaced with wanted posters and surveillance reports.

"What we're saying guv', is that all is not what it seems." Regan growled.

"And what evidence do you have to support this theory DI Regan." Johnson replied.

"As Jack said sir. It's a hunch, not a theory. We only ask we're allowed to investigate the possibility." Gene shouted.

"Now listen here Hunt! You've been granted a free-rein for years, often exploited it, but you will respect my superiority." Johnson barked.

"You'll respect **me** when I nick these blagger and save a priceless diamond... **sir!**"

"That is enough! London have contacted me and said they are sending down better disciplined and trained officers, and request that DI Regan and DS Carter are sent back to London within the next week."

"Lousy sod. Better disciplined and trained officers. Who the hell is that?" Gene exclaimed.

"Robbery Squad maybe. But we've still got a week, that gives us enough time to wrap this up and have a pint afterwards."

"That's going against regulations!" Sam complained.

"Going against regulations which will get a diamond stolen and lose public trust in the police for failing to act. Hardly seems evil to me" Jack responded.

"Too right. Tyler, make yourself useful, gather all the team, have 'em armed and ready with cars and the plod your so dear of in reserve." Gene listed.

"For what?"

"Toolbox escaped prison last week. My informants told me the evil bastard is hiding in the docks. We're going to give 'im a case of cluster phobia with the amount of armed bastards shovelling guns down his throat."

"Claustrophobia, it's called claustrophobia!" Sam remarked.

"Whatever!" Gene replied angrily.


	4. The Death of Sam Tyler

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not claim ownership over any mentioned brand names in this story. They are the property of their rightful owners. However this is my story! ©2008**

_Manchester docks_

CID had all gathered around Gene's Cortina for a briefing. Behind them was a fleet of cars. Uniformed officers stood by the cars, talking and spinning their truncheons around.

"Right you lot. Searches have narrowed Toolbox's location to that warehouse on your right." He indicated a derelict builiding still in quite good condition. "My team, consisting of myself, DI Tyler and DI Regal will take the front entrance. DS Carter, Ray and Chris will take the back. DC Cartwright and the rest of you lot will wait outside if any escape. Now be careful, this lot are as mad as an NF member in Uganda." Gene said.

The team murmured their confirmation and moved into their respective positions. George, Ray and Chris trod carefully to the back of the warehouse. Gene, Sam and Jack drew their guns and strode to the front.

"What the fuck is that!" Gene exclaimed half-way the front, looking at Jack's minuscule revolver.

"Standard issue Flying Squad weapon."

"Here." He reached into his coat and drew out a Webley revolver. "This way a rat won't steal your gun when you come through the door."

They approached the door carefully and silently.

"Right then, Sam, the door if you would." Gene commanded.

Sam nodded and raising his gun, he grabbed hold of the handle. He pulled the door open and the three officers burst into the room and Gene shouted out:

"Hands up! You're surrounded by armed bastards!!"

Toolbox was the first to rise to his feet with a saw-off break-action shotgun in his hands.

"Drop it son. Flying Squad, you're nicked!"

"Mr. Hunt, I was wondering where you where. Haven't changed at all have you." Toolbox noted politely.

"You know me Toolbox, and my informants know you, Jimmy Morrison mean anything to you?"

"That useless penny-pincher. Couldn't crack an egg, let alone a safe. Had to have me to do it, and even then he messed up, its bad for business you see Mr. Hunt!"

"No excuse Toolbox! Now drop it and you and you're mate Lucas, yeah I see 'im, come 'ere!"

Lucas emerged from behind a pile of boxes. He, like Morrison was young, but had considerable muscle, making it hard for him to hide.

At this moment, Toolbox sped off and flew over a large fabric machine and jumped out of a window. Lucas raised an assault rifle, but Gene shot him in the foot, making him fall to the floor.

Sam raced out of the door and saw Toolbox speeding off in a car. Sam slid over the bonnet of Gene's Cortina and screeched off, leaving Gene shouting after him in the distance.

"Quick take my car!" Regan shouted.

He, Gene and George scrambled in and pursued Sam and Toolbox.

Toolbox flew across the dock road, pursued by Sam and Jack. Traffic was busy at 7am on a Monday, so the two cars found themselves sliding between and around trucks. Toolbox cornered around the bridge, his back end whacking the bridge itself, making him spin out, but he remained in control, so evading Sam's ram up Toolbox's back. Sam tried ever so hard to ram Toolbox's speeding car, but at these high speeds it was impossible for the Cortina to lessen the distance between the cars. They drove up the river, now free of the trucks. Sam put his foot to the pedal, and leapt forward. He rammed Toolbox who span into a pile of oil barrels Sam had not seen, creating an almighty explosion. Sam lost control and in the explosion, he thought the saw the face of a laughing girl, clenching a clown doll. For this second of lost concentration, he plunged into the river. Concussed and drowning he saw his life flash before his eyes. Annie, Gene, Maya, Morgan and his mother flashed like cameras. 1973, 2007 it all mixed creating a blend of colour and scenes. Until fading to grey, with the faint sound of:

"_Take a look at the Lawman_

_Beating up the wrong guy_ _Oh man! Wonder if he'll ever know_ _He's in the best selling show_ _Is there life on Mars?_" _CID_

Gene and Jack stood outside talking.

"I'm sorry Gene."

"It's his own fault. He shouldn't have taken off without my say-so."

"Yeh' know, you're the first superior officer I've met who's not a stickler for rules. You should come to London, we need officers like you, the whole of CID have all been sacked for corruption, we need some more staff. What do yeh' say?"

"Might just take you up on that. Yeah, I'll talk to the team. It's been good, Jack, you'll make a better officer than me in no time. And I don't say that often."

"Surprised you say that at all!"

"Shat it!"

"See yeh' later than eh?"

"Yeah."

They shook hands and Jack walked to his car with George sat in the driver's seat.

_London, 1981_

"_Suspect evading arrest, travelling towards Murphy & Son's Textiles." _The voice crackled over the intercom.

"Rodger that dispatcher, Gene Genie responding." Ray answered. "Guv'!"

"I'm on it!" Gene answered flying the Quattro around in a mad U-turn. "Let's hope our new DI doesn't get their first!"

The Quattro sped towards the factory, flying around corners, before parallel parking before a scantily dressed woman and the well-known drug baron Edward Markham.

Gene flung the door open, emphasising his exit. Landing his snake-skin boots on the floor softly, but firmly. When fully out of the Quattro, he took off his sunglasses and pulled a Colt Python from his holster in practised bravado, while saying aloud an carefully practised sentence:

"Today my friend, you're diary entry will read: Took a prozzie hostage, and was shot by three armed bastards!"


End file.
